Too Smart to Die
by that unnamed woman
Summary: That sly, red-haired girl overlooked by anyone else. Did she really eat those deadly berries? Why didn't she know? Or, did she? Set in mostly the world of the books (and maybe tiny bits of movie-only content); rated T for violence.
1. Final Eight

The final eight. So they are coming to visit my family now, trying to get an interview – only there is no family left, at least no one I would know about. Maybe they will talk to someone at the orphanage. My friends will keep their mouths shut, at least this is what I told them to do when they came to bid farewell. Not a word in front of any camera. They want to kill me for their amusement; so why should I let them dig through my past for the same reason? My life belongs to me and to no one else; especially not to the Capitol.

It's a pity the supplies are gone. However, if I give it second thoughts – maybe not so bad at all. With the careers deprived of their source of food, there is no more need to worry about what kind of fancy weapons some wealthy sponsor might send them... all they need is something to fill their stomach with. I don't have sponsors, but I have other sources. Fire girl for example. As long as there is game in the woods, there will be food to snatch in her proximity. And there is her ally, that 12-year-old squirrel digging up whatever edible root she can find.

The giant from 11 could be another source, but he keeps no stocks to steal from. Whatever he plucks, he eats right away, and he seems to be quite picky about the ears he takes – maybe because they are not all the same? Gamemakers have a long history of spiking a variety of tasty-looking things with deadly poison. Maybe he knows the right ones from home; they grow all kinds of stuff there.

I am almost sure I could figure it out if I watched him long enough, only watching him requires being close and being close is dangerous. He is no career, no one who would kill for the fun of it – however, he wants to see his home again and with only eight of us left any dead tribute means a great step forward.

Loverboy should be dead by now, was the last cannon his? I heard Cato boast about having cut him up more than once, and still he managed to stay alive somehow until recently. Maybe he scarred a tree, and mistook it for a tribute? Tracker jacker venom does strange things to the mind and its perception of reality. I have no clue how, but the whole career pack got stung badly some days ago. Two of them died in close succession... couldn't bear the stings?

Was it some clever trap? Must have been built by a true daredevil; getting anywhere close to such a nest makes those little beasts go berserk. I witnessed the removal of such a thing back home; years ago – the only thing that seems to help is fire. Soak the nest in fuel, then let it burn. Stay as far away as possible. And take care nothing else catches fire. The pest controllers of district 5 were not so lucky, the next time I saw the building it had lost half its roof. Fire is catching, indeed.

Are the stories true? That the capitol made them, to discourage rebel forces from hiding in the woods? The legends tell there were other mutts as well. Birds that could spy on secret meetings for example, delivering any single word to their masters in the Capitol. Well, at least these birds died out apparently – or maybe not? It is said they were all-male, and bred with female mockingbirds unintentionally creating the whole species of mockingjays. Quite a slap in the face of those in power, showing them that nature can't be tamed that easily.

Dusk is falling. I can already feel the chill creeping deep into my bones; it is time to get ready for the night. The gamemakers must be messing around with temperature, as the days are getting hotter and the nights colder. How do they do that, by the way? Controll the weather in such a large area? Luckily I managed to snatch a blanket from the career's stockpile on one of the visits I paid that pyramid before it came down – will that be enough?

The anthem blares up, and the face of the district 3 male shows up in the sky, followed by the boy from 10. I remember the latter for his bad leg, he made it far for someone unable to run away. Loverboy is still alive, and I have no clue where he might be hiding; He was with the pack when I last saw him, but he has somehow disappeared from there... I haven't caught a glimpse of him for days. Is he really wounded, as Cato insisted? Then he should certainly be dead by now. Or did he manage to sneak away? Careers can't be outrun that easily. Except if he created a good diversion, something like... a nest full of tracker jackers.

As I cuddle up under a bush inside my blanket, I take mental notes of what to do tomorrow: Check out the former career's camp; I am quite sure there will be something left for me. The air is cold as ice; I need to get my hands on a sleeping bag or something similar as well... unfortunately, there will be nothing like this at the clearing. Even a career can see how others would use it for their advantage, so whatever survived the blast will have been cut into pieces, or burnt, or maybe even booby-trapped when I arrive at the scene.

Steal it from someone? The careers will be on guard like never before, having experienced what happens to their things if they don't pay enough attention. That bear in the wheat field? He's got a tent, and maybe more – but he's not stupid. What looked to be somehow deformed on first sight was certainly done on purpose; he modified his shelter a little to prevent it from sticking out of the tall grass due to its height. Did he bend the poles with brute force? And if he is that clever, did he set up some traps as well? Or an early warning system?

The girls? I know they share a single sleeping bag; the only way to get it would be to eliminate them both. Have a look at their food. Take a tiny little bit for myself. And poison the rest. All their possessions would be mine. And the guilt of having killed a twelve-year-old girl.

No. I am not just a piece in their game. If I have to die in this arena, I want to die as myself and not as the killer of some child that has never done me anything wrong. There must be other solutions; different opportunities, and I will seize them when they arise.


	2. Fox in the Night

The cold wakes me even earlier than usual. I have never been a late riser, but for what I can see, the stars are still shining bright and there is not a sign of dawn approaching. How long did I sleep, then? Is it after midnight, or before? My whole body is shivering as it never did before; I can't remember the last night feeling half as freezing as this one; as if the gamemakers were sucking the last bit of warmth out of anyone inside this arena. They want us to come out of hiding, obviously. Especially me.

I'm not the type of tribute they want to see in the Capitol; way too little action. Maybe I got a couple of minutes airtime during my first attempts at the pyramid, but surely seeing me do the very same thing again the third and fourth time was much less interesting, if not boring. What the crowds really like is some bloody hand-to-hand combat; that's what glues the masses to the screen and that's what the gamemakers are determined to provide.

The last time I got within striking distance of another tribute was... well... on the very first day of the games. I was trying to put as much distance as possible between me and the bloodbath, when I suddenly realized I was heading the wrong way, back to where I came from – I guess it was difficult for me to keep track of directions in that unfamiliar terrain. And before I could even think about turning around, I was lying flat on the ground with the hell of a headache. That certain girl who was on fire had just crashed into me, and even worse: she had a knife, while I was barehanded.

I struggled to get back on my feet again, and to my surprise she darted off in the opposite direction... not even an attempt to go after me. No doubt, I can be fast, but she could have outrun me easily when it came down to stamina. Fire girl is special, I knew that from the very moment I saw her in the reaping. She volunteered for that 12-year-old girl; her sister if I remember correctly what she said in her interview with Caesar. And that star-crossed lovers thing? She didn't know anything before, that's for sure. He? Maybe he really loves her. Maybe he doesn't, but whoever came up with that idea must be called a genius.

So why on earth didn't they stick to this act? The crowds would have gone mad; the couple would have been drowned in sponsor gifts by now. All they had to do was to stick together and find some place to hide... yet they didn't. They never left each other's side during training, still I haven't seen them together even once inside the arena. How could anyone be stupid enough to ignore such a chance? To me, there is just one logical answer: someone interfered. That explains why Loverboy was with the careers; he was their prisoner. Just why didn't they kill him right away? Did they hope to draw her near, using him as living bait? That would explain how someone could get desperate enough to use tracker jackers for a trap.

Anyhow, I'm feeling thirsty and that bottle of mine was emptied yesterday – the stream is not far away, and some physical activity might warm me up a little. Still, there could be careers on the loose tonight... they got two pairs of those strange sunglasses with them, and from what I can tell they improve ones eyesight in the darkness; any other tribute without this kind of gadget would be easy prey for them at night. I pause for a while to listen carefully, but there is nothing suspicious or unusal in the sounds of the nocturnal forest around me.

I wrap the blanket around and start moving towards the murmur of the water, pausing after each step to check for signs of traps and unnatural sounds. As for the cold, being up and moving doesn't seem to help at all. At least the sky is getting slightly brighter in what I think is east, telling me dawn is finally approaching. By the time I reach my destination, twilight has set in, so I quickly take a sip of the icy water, fill my flask and head back to the trees, where I am somewhat protected from sight.

Staying a safe distance away from the stream, I follow it towards the lake, until I can see the golden glimmer of the cornucopia in the first rays of the morning sun. The clearing. I have finally reached it. With temperature rising slowly, I start to feel slightly more comfortable; at least most of the shivering is gone. Finally reaching the forest's edge, the true extent of devastation catches my eye: shreds of backpacks, tents, containers spread out everywhere. Craters everywhere, partially filled with rubble. Whoever set those mines off did a thoruough job.

I pause for a while to check whether the area is safe, then dart out into the open. There is no one here; the cornucopia itself empty. For a moment, I consider moving my den inside the golden horn, for it would offer some protection against wind and weather... the careers have picked it clean; there is nothing anyone could hope to gain from it. On the other hand, it is positioned right in the middle of that clearing; any movement in and out could be easily seen by anyone in a hundred-yard radius. No, this is no safe space for me; no matter how well I could hide myself in there. It's a death trap.

I begin digging through the first hole. A sealable metal flask, not so bad... until I notice the crack going from one end to the other. No, this one won't hold anything; it's completely useless. As I continue searching, I come across a dented pot. A pack of crackers containing mostly crumbles, but certainly edible. And then – a knife blade, from the looks of it still sharp. I think about that theory about the booby-traps again, but there is no sign of it being left on purpose. No hidden thread attached to it; and certainly no mine beneath for they all went off in this area. Still careful, I lift it from the ground.

Nothing happens. And then, before I could stop myself, I begin to laugh. Laugh at the careers for being either fools or blind. Laugh at the gamemakers for not having managed to get rid of me. I even laugh at the Capitol, knowing that sometime it will be their children in the arena and not ours. The districts will rise again, as they have risen before; and one day they will be victorious. They cannot stop us; they cannot wipe out all twelve districts at once like they did in 13 – dead people cannot work, and ruined plants will not produce. They would starve out themselves.

A twig snaps in the distance. An animal, perhaps. Or a mutt. Or worse – a tribute. I should have held my tongue; that sudden burst of laughter must have alarmed anyone in a half-mile radius of my presence. I sprint off to the woods, away from the direction that noise came from. Looking back, the clearing appears deserted; there is no one to be seen. Anyhow, I have no intentions to tempt my fate by moving back into the open, so I decide it will be best for me to find a shady place to hide from the baking midday sun to come.

Hungry as ever, I quickly finish what remained of the crackers – pulverized by the explosions, but still edible; at least with some water to wash down the crumbs. I spend the hottest hours of the day camouflaged in the undergrowth, dozing off for a while only to be woken by the sound of a cannon somewhere in the distance. That's seven now; me and six others. I instantly hope it was not Rue who died, for she is so young and cute and innocent and least deserves such an end. She should be the one leaving this arena alive.

A second boom; that makes two deaths now – and we are down to half a dozen, from initially twenty-four. Two cannons in close succession, from approximately the same location. The beefcake from eleven is still hiding in the fields, which are quite the opposite direction. Loverboy staging a sneak attack on the careers, finishing one of them before getting killed in the process? Certain suicide, why would he do that after his successful escape? No, two booms at the same place can only mean one thing: the pack found Katniss and Rue.

That's bad for me, for they were my favourite source of trusted food besides the now blown-up stockpile. They both knew what they were doing; there was no need to check the safety of whatever they prepared to eat themselves. I've even grown fond of them, up to the point of considering to offer joining their alliance – but to what point? There can be only one victor; I wouldn't have trusted fire girl not to put a knife in my back at the right time. I am no twelve-year-old after all; no one too sweet to harm... and getting along with other people never belonged to my strengths.

To my surprise, the first face to show up is the boy from one; I never bothered to pick up his name – my speculations about a suicide attack experience a sudden revival. Who was the second victim? Rue. At least I wasn't completely wrong with my initial assumption of her alliance having been under attack, but why only her and the career? They can't be stupid enough to split up while on the chase, with others like fire girl and that muscle man around... or can they? Did the loss of their supplies drive them mad enough to attempt taking on all the others at once, in a desperate attempt to end the games before the hunger sets in?

As long as the gamemakers don't freeze me out before, I might actually stand a chance to win this... but I really need another blanket.


	3. Fear Cuts Deeper than Swords

The crackers didn't help much – my stomach still feels like an empty hole, and with night falling there won't be any opportunity for me to acquire more until tomorrow. What am I going to do next? Return to the cornucopia for foraging, I guess. Refill my water supply. Hide away somewhere and wait for the rest to kill each other, as they did before. As with any plan, there are some flaws in it: the gamemakers, for example. Once the number of tributes gets too low, they will drive us together somehow... one year they sent in birds with razor-sharp beaks. Another time they flooded the entire arena. They will do everything in their power to make the end of the games as spectacular as the beginning; one big battle I can impossibly survive. For I'm the weakest, the worst nourished, the one without proper weaponry.

Surviving the bloodbath was easy; don't get drawn into it. Same for surviving throughout the games: stay away from any possible danger, move in only when they are distracted elsewhere. Take tiny bits of this and that; don't steal anything important enough to cause suspicion. Stay hidden. A great strategy for surviving into the later stage of the games, just not for winning. Still – what's the alternative? Step out into the open and wait for someone to cut my throat? Torn between hunger and frost, I finally manage to find some sleep.

This time I wait until dawn to move out. As before, the clearing is empty; the remains of the explosion untouched. I hope for another pack of crackers, perhaps some tinned fruits – sadly, my luck has run out; there is nothing I can find. I continue towards the stream; at least this hasn't run dry. I even manage to catch a glimpse of a fish swimming by, but without a net or a fishing rod it is impossible for me to catch it. Technically, I would need a fire to cook it too, although I feel hungry enough to swallow it raw. I remember the days when we got fried fish back home; usually after moonless nights when my father came home with a trout or two hidden under his jacket. Illegal poaching, in theory; that's why it could only be done when the night was really dark... all of my father's colleagues at the dam cast out their rods from time to time. About twice a year the peacekeepers caught someone in the act followed by a public whipping, but that never seemed to discourage the rest.

Looking for a hideout during the hottest hours of the day, I wander along the rocky terrain looking for some place to hide in. Some cave-like structures; most of them too narrow even for me to climb through... wait, this one isn't that tiny inside. If I could only widen the opening a little. After some leveraging with my newly-found knife, I manage to roll one of the boulders away and squeeze in.

And not a moment too early. Heavy footsteps in the distance. Scraps of conversation I pick up.

"I'm sure I've seen her."

"Where?"

"Maybe you've seen some wild beast".

"I know what I see. That red-haired bitch..."

Damn. Why on earth did it have to be red? None of my parents had red hair, so why me? I curse myself for not having cut it off when I had the chance.

They are drawing nearer; one of them must be Cato – the other one his district partner, as there are no other careers left. A fairly bad year for them; usually at least twice that number makes it to the finals. Let's hope they conclude I ran away...

"Ran off into the woods, I suppose..."

"Do you think I'm blind? If she ran away, I'd have seen her run. She's hiding somewhere."

I could still make a run for it – a hopeless task; attempting to outrun not only one, but two careers at once. The female wouldn't even have to catch me; I've seen her throwing knifes during training. Not a single miss.

They are not going away, and something in my mind tells me they are not planning to leave until they have turned every single stone in the area – or found me before. There is no escape.

"Both of you are wrong!", I shout. "I didn't run away. But I'm not hiding either.". I loosen my hair, using that pot of mine to lift some red strains into the sun. The response is immediate; the sound of metal scratching on metal. The deflected knife lands on the floor, and I pick it up.

"Looks like if you'd lost something!", I say, demonstratively waving the captured knife at the entrance.

"That red-headed whore... she's mocking us! You go in and drive her out; cut out that malicious tongue before we finish her off...". It's Cato, and he's sounding furious. Looks like if this might actually work.

"Sending off his last remaining lapdog, isn't he? Careers have been dying like flies this year..."

That hit home, as I can tell by the female's hissed response: "You go in there. I'm not your dog, Cato. Do your dirty work yourself!".

A moment of silence results.

"Have you finally decided who is going to kill me?", I ask in a provoking tone.

"It's a goddamn trap!"

"Why don't we wait her out? She must come out of that cave sometime..."

"Are you that stupid? You know what happened the last time we tried..."

"It's not like if there was anything dangerous nearby? Can't see any tracker jacker nests nearby, can you?"

"I guess you didn't see the last one either? The one that came crashing down on us? Fire girl is roaming the arena with her bow and arrows; we are sitting ducks for her out in the open..."

"Fire girl? I think her name was Katniss, at least this was what she told me...".

"Where is she?"

"If I knew, why should I tell you? She just said she would go hunting for a while; to get us something to eat... her shots always go right through the eye, you know?"

There is no answer. I've never seen her shoot, but I've seen the results more than once. Remarkable; where did she pick up that skill? Certainly not during the few training days.

As I peek out of my cave, both careers are on their heels; heading for the safety of the forest. Fear cuts deeper than swords, or throwing knifes as I am glad to see.


	4. Feeling Lonely

It takes some moments for me to realize how fast my heart is beating. Cold sweat everywhere. My limbs are trembling; at least my voice was not. One tiny mistake; one single word spoken with the wrong intonation... they would have killed me, or worse. Careers love to torture their prey before, giving the audience a good show (at least that's what they did last year, and the year before). This time, I literally cheated death.

How far did they run? They might just be waiting at forest's edge, hoping for my imagined ally to appear... I guess she was the one who blew up their stuff, that would make her enemy number one. I'd be safe in here, for a while – until they realize there is no fire girl coming to my rescue. That there are probably no traps inside; just a frightened, half-starved 15-year-old girl and her cunning brain.

No. They would have made an orderly retreat then; what I saw was a panicky run... they wanted to get away from here so fast they didn't even have time to decide where exactly they wanted to go. With a bit of luck on my part, they could've even run into the real Katniss, or better some of her precious arrows. Unfortunately, there have been no cannons so far.

On the other hand... I need them alive. Both of them. For the first time since the beginning of these games, a plan is forming in my mind; not merely to survive the next day, but to win. An idea about how to survive the final battle. Well, with all of us driven together at some small space, everyone will have to decide where to strike first. Katniss is an obvious threat, same can be said about that strongman lurking around in the fields. Even twelve's district partner would seem more dangerous than me, so I can safely state I would be lowest on anyone's priority list.

Provided that they figure out how to dodge those arrows, the two remaining careers would be my best bet on who'd remain standing on the battlefield; at least that's what they have been trained for their entire life if the rumours are true. Two well-trained fighters from district two, and a tiny red-haired girl from five. There can be only one victor, so who'll be the bigger threat for the moment? Even now, the tensions between Cato and his district partner are more than noticeable; the only reason they didn't jump at each other's throat after a little provocation are the other tributes around. Those who can shoot a bow, or wrestle you to the ground instead.

Still, I need to get out of here before they come back to their senses and return; I'm going to try the far bank of the stream this time as they ran off towards the center. No more mistakes, I tell myself; I have to be more careful about camouflaging my steps and hideouts. There must have been a reason for them to find me; careers are trained to hunt down other tributes so I don't believe this was a chance meeting.

I wade across the stream, taking a short break for a bath... the water feels and tastes so refreshing after all I've been through; especially in that awful afternoon heat. At least the hunger seems gone for now although I still haven't managed to eat a single bite today; let's hope this lasts until tomorrow as I'm not in the mood for another adventure right now. All I need is a place to rest and sleep; as far away as possible from anyone else.

About an hour later, I think I've found that location. A dense thicket of stout, thorny shrubs; certainly not a place to poke one's nose into. Not a place where anyone else would expect someone to hide... just perfect for me, then. Whatever your name, thanks for the knife you left me – it comes in quite handy for the task of carving out my new den. After I'm satisfied with the result, I'm off for a small tour through the forest; walking circles and being very, very cautious about getting rid of any trace I left behind in the proximity of my newly-found home. Camouflaged under leaves and pine needles, I wait for night to fall; the 10th of these 74th annual Hunger Games.

The anthem is played, but there have been no deaths today. As the trumpets sound, I listen in eager anticipation – most likely, they will invite us to a feast which usually turns into something closely resembling the initial bloodbath, just with fewer contestants. The voice of Claudius Templesmith booms through the air, and he's announcing something unprecedented: a rule change.

There can be two victors now, provided they are from the same district.

Two victors, not one.

Bloody. Fucking. Hell.

I already envisioned Cato and his district partner ripping apart each other before my eyes, and now this nasty little rule change makes all my plans vanish into thin air. What were these gamemakers thinking? Then it hits me: the star-crossed lovers. They are going for an epic battle between districts twelve and two; a fight the better-trained career team is likely to win. Will there be two victors this time? I doubt it. Once all the others are dead, they will revoke the change under some pretext – one final fight; one victor. Unfortunately, these morons won't grasp the concept until the very end.

By the way, what happened to my district partner? Ran off right into the bloodbath I suppose, as his face was one of those to appear in the sky after the first day. He was no fighter; just a boy; I didn't know him but he was from home. We shared the train ride and anything that followed; I felt it was my duty to give him some advice as both our mentors preferred to get drunk instead – only he didn't want to listen, leaving me alone under the artificial sky of the arena. A shame I don't even recall his name...

Whatever happened to these supposed mentors during their games, it must have been horrible enough to render them insane for the rest of their lives. No, I think, that's not what I want to become. I'd rather die in the arena.


	5. A New Friend

Another day. My hunger for anything edible has returned; worse than ever. Food... I need something to eat; that's the only thing I manage to think about. Not far ahead, there is a bush carrying tempting berries, closely resembling the ones I stole from Rue before. Shall I give them a try? I pluck one and roll it between my fingers. It's tempting, so tempting... but are these berries safe? I am not entirely sure, and without my trusted tasters nearby I will never be, except if I probably try one of these and see what happens. It could make me vomit all over. Hallucinate. Or worse, it could kill me instead. I decide to better leave them alone.

I need to find other tributes, the only source of food I can trust. Katniss would be best, as there is no need to question the safety of whatever she prepares to eat herself. Looks like if she was familiar with the woods, do they have them in her district? Game roaming freely within their fence? Do they have a fence at all? They must have; otherwise the people there would just run away... that's what the fence is there for; not to keep the wild beasts out but to trap us slaves inside. To be honest, if I knew enough about the wilderness to survive there I'd have deserted long ago.

For what I know, district twelve's tributes never stood out in any of the games I know; they always died at the cornucopia or during the first few days, just like ours. They had a victor long time ago; even won the 2nd quell – the one with twice as many tributes as usual. Haymitch Abernathy, if I recall the name; hard to believe the same man became famous for his dead-drunk stage dive during this year's reapings. He's not the only drunkard around, although most others at least retained enough dignity to keep their balance while on stage.

No, I think; she didn't learn how to shoot that bow in district 12. She must have been outside in the woods; poaching and collecting edibles. How did she get past the fence, then? Some underground tunnel? And the most important question: where is she now; where is her delicious food? Gone to look for her district partner, I guess. Just where? The location where I've last seen her together with Rue is abandoned. She could be everywhere; without a clue to begin with it is impossible for me to find her.

As I have no desire to try my luck with the careers once more, a single option remains: the fields, and whatever lies hidden there. As both of us are alone now, it would be only logical for me and eleven to team up for now. However, does he think the same way? I have nothing to offer in terms of equipment, and I am utterly hopeless if it comes down to fighting, so why should a tough, strong guy like him accept me as an ally? Still, it's worth a try.

Before I leave, I pick the bush clean; filling my pot to the brim. It's better than nothing, I suppose; if my ally-to-be is as skilled with plants as his twelve-year-old district partner was he might be able to identify them. If they're edible, we could share them; if not... well, probably use them for a trap or poison our blades. All subject to the condition that he accepts my offer, of course...

I spend endless hours wandering through the woods, roughly following the stream to the lake – on its far side, I can see the edge of what must be a giant wheat field; golden ears of shining in the evening sun. Somewhere in there, his camp must be hidden; I'd say it's not too far away fromt the shore as anyone needs water from time to time. Listening out for possible dangers, I cover the rest of the distance crawling through the grass. Should I enter the field itself? Rather not; he'd certainly see me as a threat if I did.

"Anyone here?", I call out; there is no answer.

"Eleven? I know you are here. I am no threat, I just want to talk."

"Go away!". He must be close; much closer than expected.

"We are both alone, you and me. Our district partners are dead. What about an alliance?"

"I need no allies. Go away!"

"I'd like to offer you something"

"Go away, or I will kill you!"

"If you wanted to kill me, you'd have done so already."

Suddenly, the giant rises up in front of me, merely twenty yards away. The expression on his face... as if he was desperately trying to look threatening; to scare me away. No, he isn't out for a kill.

"Can you tell me what kind of berries these are?", I ask, holding out the pot to him.

He pauses for a moment.

"Maybe... if I take a closer look..."

His martial posture is completely gone as he approaches me; I put the berries down and take a few steps back, displaying my empty palms to him. He picks up the pot and examines its content for a while, finally stating that the berries were safe to eat; some kind of blueberries they had back in eleven.

"What about an alliance then?", I ask.

"Okay for now,", he finally answers, "looks like I couldn't get rid of you anyway:".


	6. Heaven and Hell

I learn that his name is Thresh. Understandably, none of us fully trusts the other, so I am not surprised at all when he insists on me having to take the first bite. After all, I could have poisoned the food before showing him... so I grab a handful and wolf them down, as there is no reason for me not to rely on his judgement. If he wanted to kill me, he would have done so already. The berries taste just like Rue's did; sweet, fruity and juicy, and we finish the rest of them together.

"Where did you get these from?", he asks. "Some kind of bush, in the woods", I answer, "quite far away from here I fear.". "Too bad, I really hoped for more.", he sighs. "You look well fed, don't you find enough to eat here?", I ask. "That's not the problem – you see, there's more than enough grain here to feed a family. Only it doesn't taste of much; your berries came as a nice surprise.", he says. I continue: "If you like them so much, why don't you go out into the woods to forage? You look like if you'd know a lot about edible plants and stuff.". "And leave this place? I've spent half my life working on fields like this; here's where I feel somewhat safe. Full of rattlesnakes and scorpions it may be, but these are enemies I know – in the woods, I know nothing.", he says.. "You knew these berries.", I reply.

"Everyone knows them in Eleven – only it's rare to see them fully ripe, except on the Capitol's plantations. Whatever grows in our backyards gets plucked long before; people don't care if they're a little sour as long as they have something to eat.", he says. "Don't you grow all the food in Eleven? How does it happen that your people are still hungry?", I ask. "Do you have electricity all day long?", he counters. "Only for the fence", I reply, "the rest of us is down to a few hours a day; mostly in the morning or the evening. During daylight, they don't see the need; same for the night hours when everyone is sleeping.". "You're really lucky in District Five,", he states, "we don't have electricity at all for our houses. Only the fence, the mayor and some wealthy, maybe the higher-ranking peacekeepers too. Trust me, Eleven is like hell.".

"What do they do if you eat some of their crops?", I ask. "It depends,", he answers, "a first-time offender could get away with a public whipping and some extra working hours – if you're caught too often, they might put a bullet into your head.". "They shoot you for stealing a little bit of food?", I ask. "Not only for that. They shoot you for a lot of other crimes as well, like walking too close to the fence.".

Thresh was right about this; District Eleven is hell. Back in Five, they only seem to be interested in our daily power output; as long as everyone remains quiet and stays inside the fence – I've only witnessed two shootings in my entire life; one was for murder and the other... well... for political reasons, as this poor guy got caught distributing leaflets agitating for a general strike and the overthrow of the Capitol. Some barbed wire and that whole thing being under current is enough to discourage everyone from escaping; there is no need for them to add bullets to the mix. I've always thought of District Five as some kind of a large forced-labour camp and expected the rest of Panem to be similar, but compared to Eleven my home really feels like paradise.

We settle for the night; no deaths today – I somewhat hoped for a place inside his cosy tent, but Thresh insists on me staying outside. Apparently, he is uncomfortable with the thought of having a potential enemy that close nearby while being asleep. "I'm worried about the rattlesnakes", I state. "There's no need to be afraid of them. Just the ordinary leave-me-alone-and-I'll-leave-you-alone type, same for the scorpions. Don't step on them, and you'll be safe... but watch out. They can be hidden almost everywhere. Remember: they're named rattlesnakes for a reason, so if you hear something rattle step back!", he tries to calm me a little.

Great; I left the safety of the woods for a snakepit. A snakepit full of food, however; and the reptiles should keep away any unwanted guests. Maybe not so bad at all...

I need to get the thought of food out of my mind for now; if Thresh told the truth there will be more than enough to eat for both of us tomorrow – instead, I prepare myself for the night. I decide to settle beside his tent, as it will offer me some protection from the wind; hopefully he managed to get rid of all those snakes and scorpions as well in its vicinity. Still, I double- and triplecheck every inch of ground before curling up under my blanket, and can't find anything strange or unusual there.

The next morning, Thresh shows me how he spent all previous days: collecting grain, grinding it between two heavy stones and finally adding some water for a makeshift dough. Tastes like nothing, just as he said, but I guess it fills your stomach and that's what it's all about. "Can I help you somehow with the harvest?", I ask him. "Sure.", he says, "I'll show you.". He holds out an ear to me for closer examination: "You see how the grains look like? All the same yellowish color? These you may take; and only these.". "Are there other kinds of heads as well? Poisonous ones to avoid?", I want to know. "You're a smart girl, asking such a question. Yes, there are – look at this, for example. The elongated black shapes. We call them devil's horns, for the agonizing pain you feel if you ingest too many. Also look for tiny spots on the grain; white or black or whatever color – these are infected, too. Just stick to the ones that look like what I showed you, okay?", he states; I nod in reply.

Easier said than done. He's grazing off handfuls, while I am still struggling to identify a single ear that's safe. Maybe I'm just trying in the wrong place, a place picked clean long before? As I join my ally, I start seeing them too; although I'm not nearly as fast as him I manage to present him a fistful at the end. After looking it through, he gives me a nod: "You're a fast learner, you know?". Of course I do; my parents first told me this when I was four – after they found me holding some instruction sheet for work in hand, reading the words aloud.

For the grinding part, I know I won't be much help for him as I'm way too weak for moving these stones – instead, he sends me off to get the water. About an hour later, it's time to divide our earnings; I devour my half almost instantly. "You hungry?", he asks. "Haven't eaten anything for days.", I reply. "You can have my share as well", he says, holding out what's left of his dough to me. I gladly accept.

"What about baking some real bread?", I ask after having filled my stomach for the first time in days. "Without an oven?", he replies, giving me a confused look. In answer, I point upwards; to the sun.

By the time we finish our second load, it's already late afternoon. As the sun still burns blazing hot in the sky, we decide to give it a try and cover both stones with our rudimentary flatbread, hoping that the heat will bake it through – it does. In the meantime, we exchange thoughts about our homes, our families and other stuff. I become familiar with Thresh a little, how he and his older sister were raised by their grandmother together after both parents died in close succession. So he knows how it feels like to loose what you love the most; we are probably not that unlike each other.

I am quite sure he would have made a good friend back in Five, but we're still in the Hunger Games. If it came down to just us two; could I end his life after all this? I think I couldn't. Could he?


	7. No Other Choice

I wonder how much of our conversation was blocked out before broadcasting – temporary alliances are no uncommon sight in any Hunger Games, even between different Districts; still I can't remember a single scene of tributes talking about their homes. With me and Thresh together, it felt just natural to bring up the topic; it must have happened almost any year. Did Rue tell Katniss the same sad stories before she died? They don't want us to know too much about each other's fate; locking all into their Districts without contact to the outside world. We must learn to communicate; or the Capitol's grip on us will never fade.

Trumpets again, and the voice of Claudius Templesmith; he's inviting us to a feast – an expectable move by the Gamemakers; they have finally gotten bored after three days without a single death. There will be faces in the sky tomorrow, but not mine: I'm not going there. I'm not willing to risk my life; not for all the fancy food the Capitol might offer as there's plenty to eat for both of us here.

"Now hold on. Some of you may already be declining my invitation. But this is no ordinary feast. Each of you needs something desperately."

I do need something desperately; something to keep me warm for the nights to come. Temperatures haven't dropped by much over the last few nights; I guess they're going to turn this into an icebox after the feast – I have to go, and I have to get that sleeping bag.

There will be backpacks, marked with our district number at the cornucupia at dawn – there will be four of them then, if I understand correctly. What could the others need? The Career's is easy to guess: food. They've never learned to feed themselves, and with their supplies gone and sponsor money running low (the cost for a single apple must be astronomical at this stage of the games), they are probably more hungry than ever before in their lives. What does Twelve need, then? She's got everything she wants; food, her bow and a sleeping bag; what else could she ask for? Maybe something for her district partner, as both won't fit into one as she and Rue did. And Thresh? Definitely something heavy for combat; I'd hand him a warhammer or a battleaxe.

"Will you go?", Thresh asks. "I have to.", I reply. "I won't.", he says, "There's nothing they could offer me; all I need is here.". So the Careers will get both; their food and whatever's in his pack. That mustn't happen, if any of us wants to make it home alive. "Do you have a weapon, then? Something to fight the Careers with?", I ask; he gives me a thoughtful look. "Do I need one?", he finally says, pointing to some heavy-looking stones and rocks. "Cato's got a sword, you know?", I reply. "Who's Cato?", he asks. "The Career. The big one. From District 2.", I answer, "and his district partner is alive as well." "She's throwing these things around, you know? Never seen her miss.", I tell him, showing the knife.

"How did you get that?", he asks, darting an amazed glance at me. I tell him the story, and he almost bursts out with laughter: "You scared them away, with nothing but words?". "Not only words.", I reply, "Words and knowledge.". "You must know a lot about the other tributes, then", he stats in awe. "You don't?", I ask. "No, not really. I'm just sitting around in the fields; harvesting, grinding, eating. And sleeping, of course. If it wasn't for the Games, it would be better than home.", he answers. "And you've never seen another tribute in all that time?", I ask. "After the mess at the cornucopia, you mean? A boy came here... District Three, I think...", he says. "You killed him?", I want to know. "No. Just scared him away. Ran off as he saw me.", he replies.

"Did you kill anyone?", he asks. My answer is a simple "No". "I did; once. Or twice, I don't know. Marlin, the boy form Four. He talked to me before the games, that's why I know the name. Wanted to recruit me for the pack; I declined. Tried to stab me at the cornucopia; I knocked him down and he never rose.", he says. "And the other?", I ask. "A blonde-haired girl; can't recall her district number. Knocked her over as I tried to get away. Her face was up with the others after the first day; I know I didn't kill her but she might have made it if it wasn't for me.", he explains, on the verge of tears.

"None of us should have to kill each other.", I try to comfort him, "It's the Gamemakers who make us do this. Them, and the Capitol. None of this is your fault.". Now he's really crying: "I promised to save her, but I couldn't. Little Rue. Said I'd bring her back; now I can't.". "She was with Katniss the last time I saw her.", I say. "Who?", he interrupts me. "Fire girl.", I add. "She killed her?", he asks. "No. They were allies, you know? Shared a sleeping bag together. Can't imagine she'd hurt her.", I try to explain. "Who did it, then?", he asks, desperate for knowledge. "Careers; one of them for sure. Probably the same who's going for your backpack at the feast.", I answer. "He'll never get that.", he states. "And why not?", I ask. "Because I'm gonna be there first.", he replies.

So both of us are going to attend the feast. I quickly consider asking him to retreive my pack as well, but I have my doubts about that plan – we may be allies now, but we both know it's only temporary and not the same way Katniss and Rue were. We can fight together for a common goal, but none of us would ever die for the other. Still, the thought of having Thresh behind me is a reassuring one; I won't be alone in the fight for the cornucopia. It's a three-way battle then; us against both Twelve and the Careers. That means we need a plan, or we'll both get slaughtered.

My specialty has always been to hide, but there is no place to hide around the cornucopia. At night, perhaps, but not against anyone wielding those special glasses. That leaves the forest's edge, which will be quite a distance away, and swarming with opponents. My pack will most likely contain only the sleeping bag, being relatively light – any other tribute could easily run away with it, which means I've got to be the first. I could try Twelve's pack if mine is gone, but that'd be a wild guess and it might contain anything. And they'd both be after me, because whatever's in there will be needed desperately.

No. I want my pack, and mine only. They can't hunt me down with their own items still at the table. I need to be where the table is... inside the cornucopia. Only me, or Thresh as well? He's big; he could put up a fight – especially wielding his gift. But he's too big to be stealthy; about as hard to locate as an unbalanced turbine. They could trap us inside before dawn, and this time there would be no way for me to talk myself out of that misery.

I must go alone, and I'd better be fast; with nothing but a thin blanket I'm in no shape to walk around during the night.

"We'll meet here again after the feast.", I say. "Where are you going to?", he asks. "Somewhere.", I reply, "Somewhere you cannot follow me or you'd spoil it all. I'll be back tomorrow, with my backpack. I hope you get yours too.". "Wait.", he says, "In case any of us does not survive. Thank you for your company, thank you for the berries and thank you... for the tip about the bread.". He hands me one. I give it a try; no baker's work but way better than the raw dough before. "See you.", I whisper, and I'm gone.


	8. Funeral Feast

Moving through the woods, I already feel the air cooling down – can't be; the sun is still up in the sky. However, temperatures inside the arena are unmistakably plummeting; even with my blanket wrapped around I begin to shiver. Stupid Gamemakers, I think; what's the point of freezing me to death before the fun begins? Did I rant too much about them; about the Capitol itself? No; if they just wanted to get rid of me they'd have done so in a more fool-proof way, like they dealt with that cannibal some years ago. It's probably their way to remind me what I desperately need, and how urgently... as if I needed any further persuasion.

The clearing seems deserted. As the anthem blares out, I decide to make a beeline for the cornucopia, hoping that the sound coming from above will drown any noise I could possibly make. I don't even bother about looking up; my eyes are fixed to the golden walls ahead of me – most likely, there have been no deaths today; otherwise I'd have heard a cannon. Still, anyone else might be staring at the sky reflexively, probably missing that flash of red hair darting across the open plain right now.

Once inside, I settle behind an empty rack; even stripped bare of anything it once contained it provides formidable cover. As the anthem's final chords fade into the air, I am already curled up under my blanket, waiting for night to fall.

Although protected from wind and weather, that icy chill prevents me from getting any sleep tonight – bloody Gamemakers; looks as if they were serious about their freeze-out attempt this time. At least night has finally come; it can't get much colder now. In the pale moonlight, I can see the whole plain turning white as everything gets covered in hoar frost. How many hours of this do I have to endure until dawn? It doesn't matter; all that matters is to stay up and moving. Up, down, up, down; reminds me of how I hated doing squats at school... up, down, up, down; I'm not planning to die in here.

Minutes feel like hours, hours... like an eternity. Finally, with dawn approaching, the Gamemaker's icy grip around me is bound to loosen soon; all I have to do is to hang on. As the first rays of sunlight reach the clearing, the ground in front of the entrance starts to move – a hole opens up, through which a round table is raised into the arena. Four backpacks; I guess the District markings must be at the front as there's nothing to see for me. Two black and huge; one medium-sized green and the last tiny and orange.

It's now or never. Without hesitation, I sprint out of my lair, grab the green one and dart off towards the woods, occasionally looking over my shoulder but there is no one after me. I've made it; I've gotten what I need while the rest of them are still out there figuring out who's next to move. A safe distance away from the scene, I stop to examine my prey in detail – as expected, it's marked with my district number. Inside, I find just what I'd hoped for: a heat-reflective blanket; lightweight but effective. Insulated gloves. A warm hat, like the ones the people back in Five used to wear in winter. And there's something else; a folded sheet of plastic to keep me dry in any downpour. Rain... will that be the Gamemaker's next move?

As I make my way down to the fields again, a cannon goes off at the cornucopia; the first for more than three days. Let's hope it wasn't Thresh; it's my fault he even got into that mess. He wanted to stay away; he'd still be sitting peacefully in that wheat if I hadn't convinced him to go... waiting for Cato and his partner to finish him there, maybe with the very same weapon intended for him at the feast. He had to try, I was right in that. Whatever the Gamemakers put into his pack; he will certainly need it if he intends to win.

Victory... it's a shame both of us can't win; not even in theory. Sooner or later, our alliance will break; I'd say we split when there are three or four contestants left. I do not want to wait until it's down to him and me; I do not want to end the life of the only friend I've made in this arena.

Just as I reach our former camp, there's a sound of heavy steps and cracking branches drawing nearer from the woods. There are only two of them who are capable of making such a noise, and one of them is my ally – the other would be Cato, my worst nightmare. Instantly, I run for cover, hiding in the wheat mere yards away... if the wrong man comes rushing out of this forest, I am as good as dead. But it must be Thresh; how could he otherwise know the very location of his lair?

It is Thresh, and he's carrying what looks like two huge backpacks; one for each hand. What the hell is he running from? Careers? Mutts? As the forest is quiet again, I come to the conclusion that it's really only him; him and his prize – and rise up to greet him.

"Nice work", I say, pointing to the packs he's just dropped to the ground.

"Let's hope it's been worth it. Your plan was... brilliant; why didn't you tell me? We could have hidden in there both...", he asks.

"Because it wouldn't have worked.", I reply, "because you would have never gotten inside that golden horn. You are too big; you would have been noticed; you would have been killed if you tried to sneak across the open plain. But you're alive, because you followed your own plan instead of mine. That's why I didn't tell you." And because you couldn't have resisted the urge to carry off all the other's packs as well, but that's probably something not to say aloud. "Did anyone pursue you?", I question him.

"I thought it was the big one. Cato. I was sure he'd get me, after what I'd done to Clove. His district partner. You were right about Rue, that the Careers killed her. Clove was making japes about her death; was mocking her... poor Rue... couldn't help myself but smashed her skull with some rock. Took the packs. And ran, without ever looking back.", he finally stammers.

"What about Twelve's pack? The tiny one? Did you take that away as well?", I want to know.

"No. I didn't. Fire girl took it, and ran away.", he states.

So it's only Cato we have to worry about now; that's good. Katniss will be guarding her wounded ally; her pack must have contained some medicine as nothing else she'd risk her life for could have possibly fitted in there. An antidote, perhaps; to something that bit or stung him?

Anyhow, it's time to see what's in those backpacks. I've shown him mine already; the one containing everything I need for the nights to come.

The Career's first. "Food.", I say, before he even opens it. Inside, there are about a dozen sealed metal boxes; each bearing the same three-letter inscription: "MRE". As I look closer, I read out the smallprint: "Meal, Ready to Eat.".

I count the boxes; there are sixteen of them. Sixteen boxes, meant for two Careers. That's eight for each. At a rate of two per day, they would last four days; if they preferred to stick to three meals a day it's less than three. The Gamemakers are planning to end these games quite soon...

"How on earth could you know?", Thresh asks, looking at me as if I was some kind of oracle.

"I didn't. Just guessed based on what I know about the Careers. How they fought in previous years. When their supplies are gone, they cannot feed themselves... and sponsor money alone won't last that long.", I give in reply.

He turns to the other pack; his own. "Weapon", I state, but as he opens it, it seems to contain nothing but a tightly woven, somewhat elastic mesh; almost transparent in color. A fishing net?! Why should they send him a fishing net? Unsure of what to do with it, we examine the strange object in detail... looks like some kind of garment, as there are legs and sleeves and a hole for the head to stick out – and concealed zippers. No fishing net; definitely something meant to be worn.

Despite its lightness and elasticity, the fabric seems strong – strong enough to withstand an arrow, then? Or a knife blade? Is this some elaborate type of Capitol-made body armor? It is; as even Thresh himself is unable to puncture the tiniest hole with Clove's knife.


	9. Gamemaker's Gifts

_Minor changes to the last chapter; changed the last paragraph to be more in-line with the book._

"Let's try it on!", I urge Thresh, knowing that Cato's appearance in the fields is only a matter of time – the armor fits like a glove; skin-tight and almost invisible. He moves around a little, finally stating it indeed felt perfectly comfortable. For lunch (the sun is already high in the sky), we open the first two packs of the Career's ration. I get some kind of chicken stew... not the fancy food the Capitol used to offer but still way tastier than anything I've eaten inside this arena before.

Silently, a parachute is floating down – three parachutes, to be precise. And what's attached to them doesn't look like the ordinary sponsor gift; instead it's something huge: a carton box, about six feet long and two feet wide at its taller end touches the ground just in front of Thresh. Whatever it is, it must have cost a fortune to send. "Congratulations!", I say, patting him slightly on the back, "looks like if you got some wealthy sponsors out there." He opens the box, and inside lies a curved metal blade connected to a long, wooden grip – they've sent him a harvesting scythe, complete with sharpening stones. He looks at his present in awe, finally attempting a few swings on the wheat around: cuts like a razor; on both edges.

"My first ever sponsor gift.", he states.

"I guess your mentors had to save a lot for this, that's why you never recieved anything before – and because you didn't need.", I say.

"Did you ever get a parachute?", he asks.

"No.", I answer, "And I don't think I will ever get one. You look like a fighter; that's what the Sponsors want to see – I don't."

"Yet you've made it to the final five; the people will recognize how clever you are.", he tries to reassure me.

"Even if they do; it doesn't matter - I haven't told you the worst part yet: it may be the sponsors who bring in the money, but our mentors decide what to send. And when. Mine don't care about anything but booze; I guess they're both propped up against some corner instead of watching my games right now...", I sigh.

"Chaff's a heavy drinker, too – but he only passed out once; during the train ride. After that, he was really nice, trying to give advice whenever he could. I'm sure you've seen him somewhere; the one who's missing a hand. Lost it in the games he won.", he says; I think I do indeed remember him as I've seen him passing bottles back and forth with Twelve's Haymitch at least once. Thresh continues: "And there's Seeder, my other mentor; spent most her time coaching little Rue. Somewhat motherly, and stone cold sober. Olive skin, straight black hair...". Not a clue; I guess she didn't stick out of the crowd the way Chaff did. So there are mentors who never turned to booze or morphling over all the years... why couldn't I end up with one of those?

As I look up, the sun is covered by clouds, in what had been a clear blue sky until a short time ago.

"I think we should move to higher ground.", I say.

"Why?", Thresh asks, "that's nothing but a cloudy sky."

"It's going to rain soon.", I answer.

"I've got my tent; you have your pack – I'm more worried about Cato than about a little rain.", he replies.

Cato, the strongest and fiercest and only remaining Career tribute in these games... what is he doing now? If he seriously attempted to track down Thresh, he would have appeared by now; the trail he left behind on his rampage through the woods is easy enough to follow. We have all his food, and he's probably very, very hungry by now – why doesn't he attack? He must be thinking... that his enemy was lying in ambush somewhere, waiting for him to come.

"Cato? He won't come today; he knows you're expecting him. He knows you're prepared. I guess he'll come at night, for he's got those special glasses to see in the dark... why should he attack in broad daylight, then? He wants to catch you unaware.", I inform him about my suspicion, "And we're still in the Hunger Games, you forgot? There's nothing natural about the weather here. Days hotter than summer, followed by nights cold as ice. Whatever the Gamemakers are planning right now; it won't be ordinary rain...".

"You think they're going to turn this into a swamp?", he asks.

"Could be, or worse. You remember the year they flooded the entire arena?", I reply, although I doubt they'll ever repeat that... must have been a boring year for the audience; all the head Gamemakers were removed after that obvious fiasco (and maybe their heads as well).

The discussion drags on for a while; we finally agree on staying in the fields Thresh is so reluctant to leave – however, we move our camp further away from the lake and out of the immediately flood-endangered area. In the meantime, the skies darken continuously, and soon the first raindrops start falling; by the time we have completed our buildup, it pours like cats and dogs. My tarpaulin is fixed to his tent; effectively creating a second room for me at the entrance, where I am somewhat protected from wind and weather.

I feel exhausted and tired after the last night's sleepless horrors; so Thresh agrees on taking the first watch. I think he has decided to trust me for now; otherwise he'd have opposed so much physical proximity... how long will our alliance hold? We have no common goal; only common enemies.


	10. Of Dreams and Nightmares

A gust of wind and ice-cold water shakes me out of the best dream I've had for months... I was back home; not the orphanage, but the real home I had before my father died – I remember the furniture, the photographs on the walls; even the softness of the bed I used to sleep in. There was a smell of fried fish, and mom's voice calling me for dinner. We were a family back then, the three of us; ten years ago. The happy times before too many strokes of fate, and now it is probably just time for it to strike me in the most literal possible sense: bolts of lightning coming down near and far, lighting up the world around me for split seconds each.

The tarpaulin is still fixed to his tent, but some of the stones I used to pin it to the ground must have fallen off somehow, as that end of it is fluttering violently in the wind. At least I have the contents of my pack keep me somewhat warm as I slide out of my shelter to see if I can repair the damage.

"Awake again?", a strong, familiar voice asks: Thresh.

"Obviously. How long did I sleep?", I want to know.

"I don't know... long enough, I'd say. Did the anthem wake you?", he replies.

"The anthem?", I ask, "No; didn't notice it. All I know is that a chilly splash of water somehow found its way into my face.". I point to the gaping hole.

"Not much to miss... Clove is dead. The District 2 girl; the one I killed. Hers was the only face.", he states.

"Did anything unusual happen during your watch?", I ask.

"Besides the sudden thunderstorm, you mean? No, nothing I'd remember. Not a sign of Cato, or any other tribute. You were right about him, too.", he says.

"Want me to take over now?", I ask.

"Yeah. Sure. Let's eat something before.", he answers, tossing me a MRE ration. As I open it, I cannot believe my eyes: fried fish!

"You got something special?", he asks, staring at the expression in my face.

"Fried fish.", I say, "Reminds me of home. Believe it or not; I was even dreaming about that before I woke up. Want to have some?".

"No, that's yours. I've never tasted fish before, but to you it means something.", he replies.

"It's not about the fish, you know? It's about what it reminds me of; about the time before I lost my family. And about how we shared our meals back then. It's the sharing, not the eating itself... you're the closest to a friend I've ever had since they took me away from Five. Would you mind if we ate together this time?", I answer; getting sentimental. All the days I've survived inside this arena with nothing but pure, cold logic at my disposal... I miss everything, and everyone. And above all, I miss Serena.

We were more than friends; we were like sisters, or even twins: inseparable, after knowing each other for barely three years... next month, we'd have our anniversary, but she's so far away; almost unreachable. She was the first to come storming through that door to bid farewell, eyes red and swollen from crying. I know she must be watching me right now; I guess she hardly ever slept since the day the games began., still begging and hoping for me to return. Will I? And if I did; would I remain the same person? In order to win, all others have to die: Cato; I could certainly live with killing Cato. He's more the Capitol's mutt and lapdog to me than anything human. But what about the others? Fire Girl, the one who volunteered to save her little sister? Her district partner? Could I end their lives? And what about Thresh?

He has accepted my offer; we are sitting together in the dry, sharing my fish and his unidentified, but certainly edible variety of grilled meat between us.

"What about more?", he asks, "I'm still hungry.". I nod; so we divide the contents of the next pack (some kind of long noodles, together with a sauce flavoring of tomatoes) as well – after that, I am as full as I could possibly get. As Thresh retreats into his tent for his well-deserved sleep, I prepare myself for the long night to come.

It is dark and cold and wet; and loud. There are the noises of the storm itself: the heavy rain lashing against anything in its way... every now and then interrupted by a deafening clap of thunder. And there might be something, or someone worse around: Mutts. Or Cato. Peeking out into the darkness, I do my best to scan the area during the flashes, looking for the only tribute taller and larger than even Thresh, but there is no sign of him. He couldn't have hoped for better cover.

Does he think his opponent was still awake, expecting such a move? Does he want to exhaust him, not knowing I am there to share the watches? Or is he in reality mere feet away, Sword ready to cut first my own throat and then Thresh's? I'm slowly becoming paranoid.

I always thought that the greatest danger was to overlook something, and, as I know from the recordings of previous Hunger Games, falling asleep. In a night like this, the latter poses no difficulty at all – and for the first part, it's just the other way round: I notice too much. Someone (or something) moving through the grass, or is it nothing but the wind? I cannot tell; the light is gone before I could take a closer look.

And there are hours of this ahead.


	11. Snake Eyes

The storm continues throughout the night; with undiminished intensity. A dim glow in the clouds is all that remains of dawn; and still no sign of Cato. Too windy for him, or too wet? We have all his food; what is he waiting for?

It is now bright enough for me to keep an eye on the surroundings, without the need to wait for the next flash. Lake and stream have burst their banks; the lower part of the fields – just where our old camp was located – is flooded inch-deep. We are several feet higher up here; as long as it doesn't continue like this for days we will be safe...

What are the Gamemaker's intentions behind that storm? Must be boring for the audience to see all the tributes in their dens, hiding away from the weather outside. What's the purpose of this? Are they trying to get rid of a certain tribute they don't like? There are more effective, and more spectacular methods for achieving this. Do they need more time to think up something for a great finale? I doubt it; I'm quite sure they have some plans in reserve since the beginning of the games. Something more important going on outside the arena? Can't be Snow's birthday (which is in mid-winter), then – could it be his funeral? That'd be too good to be true.

Time... does someone inside the arena need a break, then? Can't be Thresh,or me. Can't be Cato who's just getting hungrier with each passing hour. Fire girl? Unlikely – but what about her district partner? There was medicine for him at the feast; that means he's hurt. Besides the contents of that orange pack, a few days of rest are probably all he needs now. The storm; it is just perfect - allowing him to regenerate a little; for an even more memorable end.

Almost lost in thought, I notice a strange movement in the grass. It's coming closer, and it is definitely something large.

"Thresh?!", I shout.

"What?" is his answer. I'm glad he sounds awake.

"Over there.", I say, indicating the approximate direction, "Something big.".

"Cato?", he asks, reaching for his scythe.

It is now close enough for me to catch a glimpse of its skin: brown, and scaly. That is certainly not Cato. Whatever it is, it's making a low, sonorous rattling noise.

"Rattlesnake!", I scream.

"Get behind me!", Thresh yells; I obey without thinking.

The beast rises up in front of us. Its head is now towering more than a yard above the grass, attached to a body thick as the stem of a tree. This is no normal rattlesnake; it must be one of the Capitol's special creations.

Thresh swings his scythe. It dodges, but not enough to fully escape the blow – the blade leaves a thin, red streak on its body. Not enough to seriously wound the mutt, but certainly enough to enrage it even more. It hisses loudly, then bares its fangs. And suddenly, it strikes forward.

This time, the scythe goes right through its neck from below. The snake's body collapses to the ground, still twitching and rattling in a disoriented manner – the severed head takes a different path, flying off in high arc before ultimately landing at my feet: dead as a doornail.

"Nice swing!", I congratulate him.

"Get away!", Thresh shouts back at me.

I take a step back, and not a moment too early – somehow, the snake head has decided to come to life again, scratching the leather as it tries to sink its teeth into one of my boots. What the hell is this? I've seen dozens of different mutts in previous games, but this is the very first one refusing to stay dead.

"Are you hurt?", he asks.

"I think not.", I reply, "The head... how did you know?".

"Because that's what they always do. There is a saying back home; that they have two lives. The rattlers. Killing them once... isn't enough. You have to finish the head as well.", he answers.

"And how?", I ask.

"Burn it. Squash it. Doesn't matter. Just never touch it, or get anywhere near it.", he states, "The head can bite for hours; some say even days.".

Amidst all that rain, fire is not an option. Attempting to crack its skull could ruin the blade. So what to do with it then? Thresh simply shoves it out of sight; into the tall grass.

"Have you seen where?", he asks, "Remember where the head is?".I nod.

"Let's hope Cato doesn't.", I reply, causing a broad grin in his face.

The whole agitation makes me feel a little dizzy, and there is a strange numbness in my left ankle. Left? That's not good. Left was the side the undead snake head tried to bite. Did it... poison me?

As I remove the boot, my worst fears are coming true: it is more than scratched; it is punctured. There is a hole in it; right at the ankle. And there is a tiny red spot on my sock as well. Red; as red as blood. My blood. The wound itself is barely noticeable; nothing more than a slightly bleeding scratch – that's why I felt nothing when it bit me.

I could ask Thresh about rattlesnake venom; maybe he knows some kind of remedy – but it is pointless, as this was no ordinary rattlesnake. Only the Gamemakers know what kind of venom they put in there; and where to find an antidote.

Strange, how it all ends: I played hopscotch on mined ground. Routed the Careers with bare hands. And survived to tell the tale; only to get killed by something already dead.

"Thresh?", I call out. My vision gets blurry. There is a lot I want to tell him, but I can't.

The last thing I remember is a pair of strong hands trying to catch me as I collapse to the ground. Then, I black out completely.


	12. The Greatest Gift

_Sorry for the delay; some kind of a writer's block. Luckily, my imagination has just returned and with it some ideas for a few plot twists :-)_

As I come to my senses, the very ground I am lying on feels oddly cosy. Heaven? Everything is dark, but I can hear the rain pattering on some fabric overhead. No, I am not in heaven. It's the tent, he must have dragged me inside while I was unconscious.

"Thresh?", I ask, but there is no answer. Guess I have to find the way out on my own by touch... if I only knew where that zipper was. Crawling on all fours, my left leg still feels strangely numb around the ancle – and I feel a bit lightheaded, but the worst seems to have passed.

A faint glow illuminates my surroundings for split-seconds, immediately followed by a clap of thunder. The storm, I think. It is still raging. However, the flash was enough for me to orient myself a little; and within minutes I have managed to get my hands on that zip.

I am surprised to find out it is still daytime, although I cannot tell much more – the dense clouds are blocking most of the sunlight. It feels as if the gamemakers had forgotten to turn on the heat this time... luckily, the all-weather gear I got from the feast is right there on the ground, fixed in place by a couple of stones. As I take a closer look, there is something else – an empty syringe. And a tiny box, attached to a parachute.

"Thank you!", I mutter, just loud enough for the microphones pick up, "Thank you so much. I will never forget it.".

I was so wrong about my mentors. Somehow, they must have managed to sober up enough to save my life. I wonder how they managed to win their own games back then – especially Tessa, as she's such a tiny woman; not much of a fighter. And not particularly pretty. Maybe this was different in her youth, before the games destroyed her life... but it is hard to imagine her as the type of girl the sponsors flock to; not with all that competition. There can be only one conclusion: she must have outsmarted the others. Could she have given me some advice, if I only asked the right questions?

And what about the others? Our escort. The prep teams. Maybe they all had a role in raising the money for this. And of course I have to thank Thresh, the one who decided to save me instead of just letting me die. So many debts... debts I will never be able to repay.

"Thresh?", I call out again – this time, he must have heard it. Footsteps behind me, coming closer. I turn around and see a familiar face.

"Are you ok?", he asks – in answer, I give him a hug.

"How long did I pass out?", I want to know.

"Couple of hours, maybe. Hard to tell in that weather.", he replies, telling me what happened: "When you collapsed in my arms, I thought you were... dying. You didn't move. Almost stopped to breathe. I was holding you, waiting for the cannon to sound. Instead, I saw the parachute."

"The antidote?", I interject, already knowing the answer.

"Yes. The moment I saw the parachute coming down, I knew it was for you. It had to be. They couldn't let you die this way.", he states.

They could. And they would have, if it wasn't for my mentors. If it wasn't for Thresh. The way he looks at me. Talks to me. And, of course, the fact that he has just saved my life, despite the knowledge that only one of us can win... he wants me to live. Why?

"Why did you do this for me?", I ask him, "We're in the Hunger Games. Only one of us can live. So why did you save me?".

"Because one of us should go home.", he replies, "And that one... should be you.". And further: "I have nothing left to live for. I am a murderer. Their faces – they return to me whenever I close my eyes. Marlin. Clove. The blonde-haired girl. They come to haunt me in my sleep. And there's little Rue, the one I tried to save but couldn't. I am just a piece in their games , this is no life for me."

He's so struggling to keep his poise. I sense there must be another reason; something he desperately tries to hide from me – and I have the feeling I do know exactly what it is.

Coming home... the very idea I might return one day has kept me going all the time inside this arena. Now, even winning the games won't help me much – it would mean losing Thresh forever; even thinking about it feels unbearable. In the short time we've spent together, I've grown more than attached to this strong man with the soft voice and the chocolate skin.

"Maybe fire girl and fire boy are not the only star-crossed lovers here, you know?", I say, and give him a kiss.


End file.
